Thursday, December 12, 2013

The Look

I often get The Look
when friends and family come over to our house. They look at Smudge
struggle to rise from her relaxed recumbency, watch her walk straight legged as
she makes her way to the door, then wag her tail when they give her a pat
hello. “Awwwww, poor thing” is often the next thing that squeaks out of
their mouth.

Poor Smudge. The
thing is, I don’t look at her that way. Does she look like the robust,
beautiful Berner she did when she was 7 years old? Heck, no! Smudge
has basically doubled the average life expectancy of a Bernese Mountain Dog,
and lost the equivalent of a medium sized dog in weight and muscle mass.
Sarcopenia, the dreaded common side effect of growing old. Old dogs are
not pretty. They are lumpy, skinny and sometimes stiff. They often
have accidents in the house. They are not steady on their feet and they
can seem spacey due to some degree of doggy dementia. Our almost 14 year
old Smudge has all of the above.

Is it time to say good
bye? Give her the blue juice and free her of her mostly broken
body? I don’t think so. Am I wearing denial goggles? I hope
not.

When clients are stuck
in this same grey zone of not wanting to say goodbye too early and not waiting
until it becomes too late, we discuss and fill out a quality of life
scale. Although it doesn’t sit exactly right that I am discussing the
life of a much loved pet and reducing that life into a number in each category
from 0 (very low) to 5 (normal), it does seem to be a very helpful exercise for
pet parents. It helps to put things in perspective.

Smudge’s appetite...5, breathing
difficulties...5, gives love/takes love...5, accidents in the house...2,
mobility...2-3, and the list goes on. I often find owners can get through
this questionnaire with dry eyes until I ask them, “Do you think your dog is
happy?” Tears begin to flow. They reminisce about chasing balls in the
park, swimming off the boat in the summer time, frolicking in the snow, or
rolling over for belly rubs. When your dog stops doing their favorite
things, it can be a clue that they are not happy and no longer have joy in
their life. Smudge typically scores between a 70-75%. Still quite
good, but this high score doesn't come easily. She is on 6 different
medications to treat her pain, hypothyroidism and cognitive dysfunction. I
massage her every night, she has had several chiropractic sessions and she just
had her first session of acupuncture. She has a special harness for times
when she needs extra support. She needs help getting up the 2 steps from
our back deck into our house. Our entire main floor is covered in criss
cross runway of yoga mats for her so she doesn't splay out on her back legs and
her food and water bowl are now elevated to prevent her neck from stretching
down too far to the ground. Did I mention she has fecal incontinence?
After a lifetime of no messes in the house, Smudge can’t control her bowel
movements. Waking up to an aromatic fragrance is now the norm in our
house.

In 2001, early on in our
marriage, I surprised my husband with a big furball that came to be known as
Smudge. When we looked at her nose, it looked like someone took their
thumb and smeared the blackness, as if it was smudged. We always knew a
dog was going to be our first (fur) baby and she would help prepare us for the
commitment we would eventually make in having our own children. Smudge proved
to be a gentle giant with the patience of a saint in her role as playmate for
our kids and all other children. She has continued to be an integral part
of our family.

She has had a wonderful
life. Being loved and loving us in return. She deserves a beautiful
death. And when we determine it is time for her to leave her failing
body, she will leave this world, in her home, surrounded by her family as we
shower her with kisses and words of love. If this happens to fall on a warm
day, my 9 year old son has decided we should bring snow from the local hockey
arena for her to lie on. One of her favourite things. She will feel no
stress or anxiety in her final moments, as euthanasia, by my hand, ensures she
will pass peacefully and painlessly. That is what she deserves as she
heads for the snow covered Swiss mountains in the sky. So the next time you see
Smudge, instead of saying “poor Smudge,” perhaps give her a pat and say “ lucky
Smudge.”

Smudge making a snow angel!

Dr. Faith Banks is a dear friend of Dr. Mary Gardner and Dr. Dani McVety - she offers end of life care to families in Toronto Canada.